Fantôme

I’m done with men! Not because I hate them, but because everyone I meet, and is just fine enough to pique my interest, I compare to him. And it ends right there and then. The ridiculous thing is that my love interest isn’t real. He is a figure that hunts my nights and brings pleasure into the few seconds that I’m captured by my sleep paralysis. I know that, and I am totally okay with it. Just as I start a new job, and my life seems to take a better turn, determined to forget the man from the shadows, I find my forbidden pleasure standing right in front of me. Suddenly my dream man wears a tailored suit and frowns at me. He is my boss. And he is very real.

Diya Wanda grew up in a convent since the day she was abandoned at the church entrance. She never let the abandonment put her down. She grew up to be a firm believer that there is goodness in the world. This was her weakness and downfall because when she went out into the world with the blessing of the nuns. She thought it would keep her safe. The world was not as she hoped, but she was a believer. This led her to Ace Torane. She fell in love hard, fast. Their love blinded Diya into believing her happily ever after would last forever. Until she witnessed his hidden horrifying side. She considered him unredeemable and fled than confront. With her long gone and his kept secret out, Ace's fury ignited because she left. She fled with something valuable enough to let him burn everything that was in his path, including Diya. ~WARNING. THIS BOOK CONTAINS VIOLENCE AND STRONG GRAPHIC CONTENT~

"You look like this is the last place you want to be just because I'm here. Am I really that vile?" Timothy said nothing. Instead he gritted his teeth and shoved his hands into his pocket. Even in her anger, Chloe noticed him... Every inch of him... And his smell. She could pick out his unique scent. Rough. Masculine and mouthwateringly . It made no sense to her, but she was attuned to his every nuance. The man she had called her best friend until a dizzying series of events dissolved the title like sugar in hot water stared at her dispassionately. It was a good thing they were outside and she hoped that he couldn't see the hurt and disappointment on her face. The look wasn't just in his eyes. It seeped through every shrug, every curl of lips she had once thought were the most perfectly created set of lips on earth. She looked deeper, pathetically desperate to find something else. Something more. A reminder of those times when they would talk to each other for hours, and resume conversations the moment they saw one another again. But clearly the Tim she knew had been replaced by a harder, edgier version of a Timothy Kavell - Packard. He was hard and edgy and cynical to start off with. If she had known that he hated her this much, she wouldn't have agreed to his parents' offer to have dinner with them. She had agreed because a part of her had hoped that somehow, they would fix things and be friends again... And she was just beginning to see how wrong she had been....

Fate has a way of changing everything… Losing his father as a little boy, and his mother, as a teenager, pushed Darius King to grow up quite fast and with a thirst for revenge that drove him to crash every obstacle on his path in order to achieve his goal. Darius goes from a homeless boy to a billionaire bachelor. He has no time for love in his quest for righting wrongs of the past. What he doesn’t know is that love isn't something he can hide from. After losing her mother at a very young age, Alannah grew up with a monster of a father. He punishes her for sins he assumes his deceased wife made against him. Finally, her father does a business deal with Darius King, selling Alannah to the highest bidder.

After a car accident, my wife loses her memory. She throws herself into her first love's arms and frantically aborts our child. When I confront her in despair, she looks at me with nothing but contempt. "Why would I keep some child when I don't even know who the father is? You're really shameless, pulling this stunt just to avoid splitting the assets." What she doesn't know is that I have made a deal with the system to bring her back to life. By the time she remembers everything, she's already searching desperately for me all over the world. But I can never return.

My husband, Jacob Morris, wrongly believed that I had pushed the woman he loved down the stairs. So, he locked me in the basement to make me reflect on my actions. He hired people to punish me, trying to break my spirit. I suffered inhumane torture. My tendons were cut, and my face was disfigured. Four years later, he finally remembered me and let me out. But by then, I was too broken to love him anymore.

"You were just a tool, Imogene." Her heart stopped. "And I was foolish enough to believe you cared." *** Imogene Scott had always known her place—by Damien Shaw’s side, even when his love was a distant dream. Marrying her only because of an unexpected pregnancy, Damien’s affection never blossomed. Instead, her devotion turned him from a mere sales manager into the billionaire CEO of IMU, one of Europe’s most powerful tech empires. But her sacrifices weren’t enough. After losing their baby, Damien’s coldness deepened, sealing their marriage with an unspoken “no meddling” rule. Imogene’s reward? Watching Damien parade countless mistresses, all while she buried her own dreams to fuel his. She believed, naively, that one day he’d see her worth. But when he fell in love with her stepsister and served her with divorce papers, Imogene’s world shattered. Realizing she was nothing more than a pawn in Damien’s game, she vanished—pregnant and determined to protect her unborn child. Three years later, Imogene returns, not as the broken woman who fled but as a renowned artist and mother to their two-year-old daughter. Now, Damien realizes what he’s lost and wants her back. But this time, Imogene is ready to fight, and she’s not making the same mistake twice.

El día que papá asistió a una fiesta con su ex y se volvió tendencia, todos se burlaban de mi mamá. Decían que había dejado atrás una gran carrera para entrar en una familia rica, pero después de treinta años seguía sin nombre ni lugar, sin siquiera el valor de reclamarle a la amante. Después de tanto llorar, mamá me miró cansada. —Él me falló primero, así que yo tampoco lo quiero. —Amanda, ¿te vas conmigo? Justo entonces sonó mi celular. Era un mensaje de mi novio de siete años: "Amanda, solo es un acta de matrimonio. ¿No podemos seguir como novios?" Guardé silencio unos segundos antes de asentir. Así fue que, el mismo día de su boda, mamá y yo desaparecimos entre las llamas de la mansión.

El hotel me llamó para recordarme de forma sutil que anoche olvidé pagar los condones que usé, y que ya habían descontado el importe de mi tarjeta de membresía. Yo estaba algo confundida; ayer trabajé horas extras hasta muy tarde, ni siquiera estuve en un hotel. Pregunté a mi esposo, el único que sabía el número de mi tarjeta, sobre qué demonios había pasado. Él me miró con cara de total desconcierto. —Cariño, esa habitación cuesta más de diez mil la noche, ¿cómo iba yo a gastar eso? Seguro que fue un error del sistema. —Habrá sido alguien que ingresó mal el número de la membresía. Mañana iré a poner una queja. Ya no perdí el tiempo hablando con él. La inversora de ese hotel es Ángela, mi mejor amiga. Le llamé directamente. —Querida, ayúdame a revisar con quién demonios se registró Víctor Soto anoche. ¡Voy a pillarlo en la infidelidad!

Mi novia, Isabel Sánchez, es la heredera de la familia más poderosa de la capital. Su fortuna supera los cien mil millones de dólares. Para ponerme a prueba, durante siete años de relación, nunca me regaló nada, nunca gastó un solo centavo en mí. Ni siquiera cuando iba a comprar parches anticonceptivos: insistía en pagar a medias. Después, mi madre se enfermó de gravedad. Les pedí dinero a todos los familiares y amigos que pude. Solo me faltaban dos mil dólares para cubrir el costo de la cirugía. Le supliqué, le rogué. Pero Isabel no me prestó ni un dólar. Tuve que pagar yo solo los gastos del funeral de mi madre. Cuando regresé a casa para recoger mis cosas, encontré por casualidad una lista de regalos que le había comprado a Marco Aguiñaga: una villa de lujo, bolsos de marcas exclusivas, trajes de gala masculinos de alta costura… También encontré los audios en el grupo con sus amigos: —Isabel, ¿es cierto que César se arrodilló para pedirte dos mil dólares? Isabel se rió con frialdad; su voz sonó despreocupada, casi divertida. —Marco tenía razón: quien se arrodilla por tan poco dinero no es más que un interesado. Apenas llevamos siete años juntos y ya está desesperado por sacarme dinero. Resultó que siete años de "prueba" no valieron más que un comentario venenoso de su vecinito de al lado. No importa. Desde el momento en que mi madre murió, ya lo había decidido: desaparecer de su vida para siempre.